"But you found her," Sam says. "Maybe not then, but you found her. She's not out in those woods anymore."
"But how about them? Are they still out there?"
Sam reaches down and takes my hand, helping me to my feet and wrapping his arms around me. I close my eyes and rest my head to the middle of his chest. It's my favorite place. I can hear his heartbeat; I breathe in the smell of him. We've stood this way thousands of times. I could happily do it millions more and never get tired of it.
Chapter Eight
"How's the weather?" Sam asks.
I laugh and look at my phone where I've secured it to the holder on the dashboard.
"You're talking to me about the weather? I think our marriage has taken a downturn."
"Before it's even started. Now that's impressive," he notes.
"It's all right. I think we can weather the storm," I tell him.
There's a long silence. "I knew I loved you for a reason."
"If terrible puns is it, I'll take it,” I say.
“Good. Now, seriously, has the rain started where you are?” Sam asks.
“Not yet. But the sky's looking pretty nasty. I'm hoping to get to the hospital before it starts. I hate driving out here in bad weather.”
“I hate when you're driving out there in bad weather,” he says.
“I'm going to be okay. Don't worry about me too much. But if it gets too bad, I might try to find a hotel for the night rather than coming home in the storm. The forecast says once it starts it's pretty much here for the next twenty-four hours.”
“I'll miss you,” Sam says. “But I think that would be the better idea.”
“I'll give you a call when I’m done at the hospital and let you know how everything is progressing. I love you.”
“Love you too, babe. Be careful. And tell her I say hello, and I hope she's doing well.”
“I will. Talk to you soon.”
I hit the button to end the call just as the first raindrops start splashing on my windshield. I mumble a few complaints and slow down a bit. I'm the only car on the road, but that doesn't mean I couldn't have an unfortunate incident with one of the many trees lining either side of the long stretch ahead. Checking the GPS, I see it isn't too much farther until I can turn off of this fairly desolate piece of road and get to the hospital. Hopefully, the rain won't get too serious before I can get inside.
Almost as if my thinking it causes the sky to feel spiteful, a massive crack of sound suddenly roars. Everything around me lights up in a brilliant flash before a deluge pours down on me. I'm tempted to pull up on the side of the road and try to wait it out. But I don't want to miss afternoon visitation hours. Besides, as I’d told Sam, this storm is supposed to last for quite a while. I don't have much interest in camping out on the side of the road.
Xavier's pressuring finally made me upgrade my sparse but adequate emergency supplies to include a couple of pillows, several blankets, towels, enough food and water for a few days, a roadside supply kit, and various other things he sneaked into my trunk and I haven't yet explored. I might be ready to be stranded, but I'd prefer not to be if I can avoid it.
I don't stop, but I slow down and creep my way on down the road. By the time I make it to the hospital, the storm has only gotten worse and visitation hours have begun. Grabbing my umbrella from the backseat, I run across the parking lot and into the lobby.
“Emma,” Marion Kincaid greets me from behind the reception desk. “I was getting worried you weren't going to make it today.”
“I wouldn't miss it,” I tell her. “The weather just surprised me a bit, so it took me longer to get here.”
“No worries, she'll be happy to see you. Go ahead on back,” Marion says.
I smile at her as I shake out my umbrella. “Thanks.”
The electronic locks on the big blue double doors beside the desk buzz as I approach. A deep click somewhere inside says the door is ready to open and I push through it. The hospital ward beyond has been carefully crafted to look as welcoming as possible. These aren't stark, cold rooms or cubicles. Instead, the doors have been made to look as if they open into teeny apartments and the walls painted with murals to replicate a cheerful little town.
It's almost childlike, but without the strange giant eyes that seem to end up on everything, or the impossible colors. The effect is a kind of inside-out reassurance. Seeing these things around them doesn't actually make those living inside feel as though they live in a normal environment or as if everything is perfectly okay. But it makes them feel that people are trying to make them comfortable, so maybe one day it could be.
I walk down the hallway and have flashes of going into the visitation room to see Xavier. It was a different facility, with very different surroundings—but in truth, there are just as many, if not more, similarities as there are differences. That’s because the ward I am in isn’t a conventional hospital. These patients aren’t dealing with injuries or physical illnesses.
This is a psychiatric facility specifically designed to house the mentally ill, rather than putting them in prison. It’s where they belong. Despite what people want to say to make themselves feel better, the prison system isn't for rehabilitation and isn't equipped for those suffering severe mental health issues. Especially those who buckled under the torment of their minds when they committed their crimes.
Times are changing. Prisons are changing. But not enough, not yet. Not enough that any part of me believes the woman sitting
